


El laagh l'è frècc

by shessocold



Series: AUs [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 70s, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bilingual Bonus, Bilingual Character(s), Birthday Party, Birthday Sex, Body Image, Declarations Of Love, Enemies to Lovers, Fantasizing, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Godfather Sirius Black, Happy Ending, Ice Cream, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Italian Character(s), Italy, James is from Italy, Jealous James, Lake Como, Love at First Sight, M/M, Masturbation, Meet-Cute, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Picnics, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Remus Lupin's Fancy Car, Remus is a border guard, Shameless Smut, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black's Ordinary Motorcycle, Sirius is a smuggler, Smuggling, Smut, Sort Of, Time Skips, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-15 13:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold
Summary: Sirius is a cigarette smuggler on the Swiss/Italian border.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think I've translated pretty much everything, but please ask if you don't understand something! Giacomo is the Italian version of James, and Vasari... you catch my drift.
> 
> The Guardia di Finanza is tasked with catching smugglers, among other things. Its officers are known as "finanzieri", and they wear a rather dashing uniform.
> 
> UPDATE: now with [art](https://rufusrant.tumblr.com/post/170721454941/el-laagh-l%C3%A8-fr%C3%A8cc-shessocold-harry-potter) (!!!) from the brilliant [rufusrant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufusrant/pseuds/rufusrant) (I still can't believe it) <3 <3 <3

“L'inglés el te pudevet lasaal a cà,” _you should not have brought the Englishman along_.

Sirius understands the local dialect much better than the man who is selling them the cigarettes gives him credit for, but even if he didn't, there's no mistaking the accompanying look of deep mistrust. 

“Conosce la montagna meglio di me,” replies Giacomo in Italian, _he knows the mountains better than I do_. It's a bit of an exaggeration, but Sirius appreciates the display of loyalty. “E comunque non sono fatti tuoi, _it's none of your business anyway_. Buonanotte. Pads, let's go.” 

Sirius can't blame the man for not trusting them – it's not really the fact that he's British, although that probably doesn't help, but rather the fact that both he and Giacomo are notoriously well-off. Well, Giacomo's parents are, at least, well-off enough to send Giacomo abroad to boarding school. Sirius' parents are rich too (much more so than the Vasari family, Sirius suspects), but that doesn't do Sirius much good, seeing as he hasn't been on speaking terms with them for years, at this point. Not that the contraband seller could possibly know that – he just knows a rich boy when he sees one, and he doesn't trust a smuggler who becomes one out of boredom instead of out of necessity. 

_And he's not wrong,_ thinks Sirius, sweating slightly under the weight of his backpack. _Lord knows we were much more devil-may-care about the whole thing before I started to genuinely need the money... oh, thank God, Giacomo is at the boat. I can't wait to be done with this._

It's a split second. Mentally, Sirius is already at the end of the trail, already relaxing in the boat as it glides smoothly across the lake, peraphs even allowing himself a celebratory cigarette, even if one of the most obvious rules when it comes to smuggling is that you're supposed to avoid doing anything that could risk drawing attention to yourself, and lights of any kind, no matter how tiny, are the biggest risk of them all, especially once you leave the relative safety of the trees and venture out on the lake. _Even the light of a match? Yes, even the light of a match, you'll just have to wait until you're home._ But Sirius is feeling more than vaguely euphoric – the trip has gone perfectly so far and the night air is balmy enough, for the season, and in just a few minutes he will be down by the shore with Giacomo – and if they hurry it might still be early enough for them to go out for a drink once they're done, so he can't really be blamed if he's not completely focused on his surroundings, which is why he doesn't hear the car approaching on the road above and the sudden wail of the siren startles him so much that he trips and tumbles ignominiously down the side of the mountain and into a thicket, stopping just a few yards short of falling off a bluff and straight into the lake. 

The fall does more damage to Sirius' pride than to his body, although he does get more than a little scraped up. Everything is quiet and dark down by the lake, and for a few seconds Sirius allows himself to hope that the car had no backup – but then of course there's a shout – _Alt! Guardia di Finanza! Mani in alto!_ – and the grey speedboat turns on its searchlight, and Sirius sees Giacomo's silhouette next to their boat, his hands raised, trembling slightly. Sirius curses under his breath. Things could be much worse, though – Giacomo will have to explain what he was doing at midnight out on the lake, they might even keep him in for the night, but he has no contraband on him and that means they won't have any definitive proof, and there will be no real consequences. _Not until his mother hears about it, at least_. 

Urgent footsteps above him. Flashlights. Dogs, even. _The Finanza really isn't pulling any punches tonight,_ thinks Sirius, more annoyed than he is scared. He considers his options: he can't retrace his steps, obviously, and he can't follow the trail down to the lake and act all innocent, because even if he drops his backpack now the finanzieri who are coming after him will find it and at that point all plausibile deniability will be gone. There's only one thing to do, unpleasant as the idea sounds, and he has to do it quick if he wants to get away with it. He walks back as far as he can, takes a deep breath, braces himself, and runs right off the cliff. 

The water is freezing. Sirius is too relieved to care – in the fraction of a second it took him to plunge into the lake, he was all but certain that he had miscalculated the dive, that the water was going to be entirely too shallow to accomodate such a high drop, that he was going to break his legs, break his back, hit his head on the bottom of the lake and drown helplessy in two feet of water. He needn't have worried. The water is black and velvety and deep, and the men on the speedboat are apparently reluctant to take the searchlight off Giacomo, for fear that he will run too. 

“Altolà!” shouts one of them, _freeze!_

Sirius grins in the darkness. 

_I'll freeze alright,_ he thinks, _if I don't start swimming soon._

He knows he has to take off his clothes if he doesn't want to be dragged to the bottom, but under his sweater he's wearing his favourite t-shirt, and the idea of getting rid of it breaks his heart. Still, he must, if only because of how brightly coloured the shirt is. _You should have stuck to black clothing only_ , says a smug voice inside his head, a voice that sounds a lot like the man they bought the cigarettes from. The cigarettes. Sirius feels a distinct pang of sadness at the thought of his sinking backpack, and all the money they've lost – but he can't make any money at all if they catch him, so he has to pull himself together and swim away before the finanzieri start looking for him in earnest. 

Clumsily, his fingers numb, he strips down to his underwear. He keeps his shoes on – heavy as they are in the water, he won't stand a chance on the steep, rugged terrain surrounding the lake if he's barefoot. He hopes with all his might that the night breeze will still feel as relatively warm and pleasant as it did before once he gets out of the water. 

“Fatti vedere,” says a finanziere through a megaphone, his tone vaguely concerned, _show yourself_. “L'acqua è troppo fredda, arrenditi, sei circondato,” _the water is freezing, you can't make it, just surrender, we'll catch you anyway._

For all the natural emnity that exists between smugglers and the people tasked with catching them, Sirius knows for a fact that the finanzieri would jump into the frigid lake themselves and come to his rescue if need be. He also knows that he's not going to drown, though, and he definitely knows that he doesn't want to go to jail, so he merely thanks them mentally for their solicitude and starts swimming in the opposite direction. 

Getting out of the water feels ten times worse than jumping in did. Sirius scrambles uphill a bit, just far enough that he's satisfied he'll be out of reach from the speedboat's searchlight, and then crouches behind a bush, his eyes on the distant scene of Giacomo's arrest, and does his best to will himself to get warmer. It doesn't work particularly well. 

“Mani in alto, o sparo,” says a voice behind him, _hands up, or I'll shoot_. 

_Fuck._

Sirius turns around, very slowly, his hands raised. The finanziere is holding a lantern in one hand, and a gun in the other. He looks very young, probably barely older than Sirius himself, and sports a mop of curly hair that makes for an interesting contrast with the stiff formality of his uniform. He's also very handsome, notices Sirius, rather unhelpfully, given the situation. 

“Buonasera, agente. Splendida serata, no?” he says, with his best smile, in his heavily accented Italian, _good evening, officer. Wonderful night, isn't it?_

The corners of the finanziere's mouth twitch. He lowers his gun slightly. 

“Adesso mi dirai che stavi facendo una passeggiata, come minimo,” he says, _I bet you're going to tell me that you were just taking a nice evening stroll._

“E sono caduto nel lago per sbaglio,” agrees Sirius, _and I fell into the lake by accident_. 

“Fortuna che eri in mutande, allora,” says the finanziere, amused, _it's very lucky that you happened to be in your underwear, then._

Sirius laughs. The finanziere grins. He has a very nasty scar on his cheek. Sirius, with a pang of sympathy, wonders what could have possibly happened to him. He's feeling strangely relaxed for someone who's almost naked and freezing cold, not to mention still has a gun pointed at him. 

“Oh, al diavolo,” says the finanziere, abruptly, lowering his gun completely, _to hell with this._

Sirius blinks, baffled. Surely the finanziere doesn't mean...? 

“Vai, corri,” says the finanziere, urgently, _go, run._

“Are you sure?” asks Sirius, too shocked to realize that he's switched to English. 

The finanziere stares at him, uncomprehending. 

“Sei sicuro?” repeats Sirius. 

“Sì, sì, _yes_ , vai, prima che arrivino gli altri, _go, before anyone else comes_.” 

Sirius gets to his feet. 

“Grazie,” he says, staring into the finanziere's beautiful eyes. For a crazy second, overwhelmed with gratefulness and exhilaration, he can picture himself just taking one step forward and kissing him full on the mouth. The finanziere puts his gun back into its holster. 

“Prego,” he says, doing his best not to smile, _you're welcome._ “Ma adesso vai, davvero, sbrigati!” _go, quick, hurry!_

“Aspetta un secondo,” says Sirius, _just a second_. “Come ti chiami?” _What's your name?_

The finanziere blushes. 

“Non posso dirtelo, _I can't tell you_. E non dirmi come ti chiami tu, per l'amor del cielo, o sarò costretto ad arrestarti, _and do not tell me yours, for heaven's sake, or I will have to arrest you._ ” 

“Mi chiamo Sirius,” says Sirius, acting on a mad impulse, _my name is Sirius._

The finanziere sighs and shakes his head. Sirius is worried for a second, but then he sees that he's grinning. 

“Sei impossibile,” says the finanziere, _you're impossible._

Sirius grins back. His heart is thumping wildly somewhere in his throat. 

“Remo,” says the finanziere eventually, and he holds his hand out for Sirius to shake. 

“Remo,” repeats Sirius, savouring the sound of it. “I love it. Bellissimo nome!” 

“E adesso scappa, per la miseria!” hisses Remo, without letting go of Sirius' hand, _run, for fuck's sake!_

“Va bene, ma ci vediamo in giro,” says Sirius, winking, _all right, but I'll see you around._

Remo sighs again. 

“Va bene,” he agrees, giving Sirius a look that makes him feel very warm all of a sudden, “ci vediamo in giro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “All right, I’ll see you around.”  
> \---
> 
> Yes, this was a very self-indulgent fic for me. My paternal grandma was from Bellagio, on Lake Como, the general area where this is set (but not a smuggler, afaik). 
> 
> Until the '70s smuggling cigarettes from Switzerland was a very profitable activity, and this story is directly inspired by a pretty funny [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrLJS7ZKmew) by a local songwriter, Davide Van De Sfroos (there's no meet-cute in the song: when the officer asks him what he's doing half-naked in the woods, the smuggler deadpans "wanking") 
> 
> The title is from the song and means "the lake is cold" -- shocking, yes. :D
> 
> Come say hi/ciao on [tumblr](https://hp-shessocold.tumblr.com/) if you want to!


	2. Chapter 2

The rain starts in earnest when Sirius is not even halfway to Bellagio, making his slog back home even more endless and miserable than it already was. It stops briefly once he gets to his destination (allowing for a slightly easier break-in into his own house, at least), but it has started back up again by the time the phone rouses him from the well-deserved nap he's taking in a scalding bubble bath.

“No way, take a cab. Swim across the lake if you have to, I don't care. I'm not going out again in this weather.” 

“I'll see you in an hour.” says Giacomo. “Bring me a sweater, please.” 

** 

Sirius parks his motorcycle in front of the Guardia di Finanza station in Como, takes off his helmet, runs a hand through his hair and looks around for Giacomo. Giacomo is nowhere to be seen. 

_Surely he doesn't expect me to go fetch him inside the station,_ he thinks, annoyed. 

Five minutes go by. It turns out that Giacomo does. 

** 

“Buongiorno, cerco Giacomo Vasari,” _good morning, I'm here for Giacomo Vasari._

“Credo sia in bagno,” says the finanziere on duty, his back to Sirius, struggling with some mimeographed sheet of paper he's trying to pin to a noticeboard, _I think he's in the restroom_. 

“Lo aspetto qui, allora,” says Sirius, _I'll just wait for him, then._

“Faccia pure,” says the finanziere, without turning around, _as you wish, sir._

Sirius takes a seat. The finanziere has a very nice arse, he notices – either everyone in this particular company is hot, he muses, thinking back to the events of the previous evening, or he's developing some sort of uniform fetish all of a sudden. _Wouldn't that be funny..._

The finanziere turns around. It's Remo. Sirius gasps. Remo jumps about a foot. 

“Cosa ci fai qui, sei scemo?” he hisses, his eyes wide with shock, _what are you doing here, are you insane?_

“Sono venuto a prendere il mio amico,” says Sirius, trying for a casual tone, _I'm here to collect my friend_. 

Remo glares at him. 

“Ma tu guarda che faccia tosta. Dovrei farti arrestare,” he says, coldly, _the nerve of you. I should have you arrested, I'm telling you._

Sirius swallows. 

“Ascolta, mi dispiace,” _I'm really sorry, I promise._

Remo is still frowning. Sirius can tell that he's regretting the moment of giddy insanity they shared a few hours before. The notion makes his stomach twist unpleasantly, for reasons that have very little to do with the fear of ending up in jail. Remo opens his mouth like he's about to say something. 

“Oi, mate! Took you long enough,” complains Giacomo, walking into the room. “Agente,” he adds, tipping an imaginary hat in Remo's direction, _officer._

Remo closes his mouth, and resumes his silent glowering. Sirius curses inwardly. 

** 

The phone rings while Sirius, not yet ready to accept the fact that he has definitely caught a cold and there's nothing he can do about it, is busy spiking his mug of hot chocolate with a generous glug of grappa. 

“It's for you,” says Giacomo, covering the receiver with his hand, “I don't know, some bloke. You can take it here, I'm going up to bed anyway. Have fun,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows. “And try not to make too much noise.” 

Sirius gives him the two fingered salute. Giacomo laughs, and hands him the receiver. 

“Pronto,” says Sirius, _hello_. 

“Ciao,” says the mysterious caller – his voice is vaguely familiar, but Sirius can't really place him. 

“Chi parla?” says Sirius, _who's speaking?_

A slight hesitation. 

“Sono Remo,” _it's Remo._

“Oh my God,” says Sirius, and then – remembering that Remo doesn't speak English – “oddio!” 

“Disturbo?” _is this not a good time?_

“No, no, è solo che davvero non me l'aspettavo,” _no, no, it's just that I really was not expecting this._

“Non avrei dovuto chiamare,” _I should not have called you._

“No,” says Sirius, firmly, “sono contento che tu abbia chiamato,” _I'm really glad that you did._

A brief pause. Sirius' palms are sweating slightly. 

“Senti,” says Remo, in a tone that Sirius can't fully decipher, _listen._

“Sì?” _yes?_

Another brief pause. 

“Spero davvero di non aver frainteso, ma insomma, mi chiedevo se ti andrebbe di andare a prendere un gelato con me un giorno di questi,” says Remo, talking very quickly, _I hope I have not misread the situation completely, but you know, I was wondering... would you like to go out for ice cream with me one of these days?_

“Ho scelta, agente?” jokes Sirius, grinning triumphantly into the receiver, _do I have a choice, officer?_

“Ovvio,” says Remo, indignantly, _of course you do._

“Lo so, stavo scherzando,” says Sirius, _I was just joking._

Remo sighs. 

“Dimmi di sì o dimmi di no, per favore,” he says, _please either say yes or say no._

“Certo che è un sì! Mi piacerebbe tantissimo,” says Sirius, earnestly, _of course it's a yes! I would love to._

“Madonna, meno male,” says Remus, his smile clearly audible, _Jesus Christ, that's a relief._

Sirius smiles too. 

“Non vedo l'ora,” he says, _I can't wait._

** 

“A date,” repeats Giacomo, frowning sligthly. “A date with whom?” 

Sirius can't blame his friend for being sceptical: as much as he loves his new life on the lake, he has to admit that dating opportunities for queer blokes are pretty thin on the ground in Bellagio. Not that he did get much more action back in London, to be fair, but at least the possibility was there. 

“Say, do you remember the finanziere who was on duty yesterday when I came to collect you?” 

Giacomo thinks for a second. 

“Curly hair, big moustache, scarred cheek, looked about fifteen?” 

Sirius nods, grinning. 

“OK, what about him?” asks Giacomo, puzzled. Sirius doesn't say anything. Comprehension dawns suddenly on Giacomo. “Oh, c'mon, _no_ , you've got to be kidding me. A finanziere?” 

“He let me go the other night! He had me at gunpoint, and then he just went 'to hell with this' and he told me to run.” 

“And why would he do something like that, pray tell?” 

Sirius shrugs. 

“I don't know, because he likes me?” 

Giacomo shakes his head. 

“Mate, you're very fit and everything, but come on, this is crazy. There has to be something more to it. His commanding officer probably put him up to it – cosy up to the smuggler, make him trust you, get all his secrets, and we'll wipe out the whole network.” 

“It's not like that at all.” 

“Well, how can you be so sure? You don't know him!” 

“You weren't there in the woods,” insists Sirius. “You didn't see the way he looked at me.” 

Giacomo is silent for a second. 

“Do you want to maybe drive to Milano for the weekend? We can go to a gay club if you want to, you can meet someone nice and have a bit of fun. I know it's pretty lonely for you up here, mate, but that's no reason to start making eyes at a fucking _burlanda_ ,” he says, the derogative term for 'finanziere' the final nail in the coffin of his opinion on Remo. 

“Sod off,” says Sirius, irritated. “And I don't need you to find me a shag, I'm not a bloody charity case. I like Remo and I will go out with him and that's all there is to it.” 

Giacomo sighs. 

“All right, I'm sorry. Just be careful, OK?” 

Sirius grins. 

“Yes, Mum.” 

** 

Sirius can't sleep. 

By the light of day, it was very easy to dismiss Giacomo's theories about Remo's motives – alone in his bed at night, not so much. Could it really be a trap? But how would Remo go about explaining the plan to his senior officers? He would need to tell them about the exchange they had in the woods, and that just doesn't seem likely. But maybe he's acting on his own accord – maybe he wants to pry as much information as he can out of Sirius, conduct his own investigation, and only involve his command once he's ready to take the whole smuggling network down. Sirius swallows. 

On the other hand, he knows that he didn't imagine the look he saw in Remo's eyes, or the trepidation in his voice. Under a different set of circumstances, he's completely sure about this, their run-in in the woods could have ended much differently... 

Sirius shakes his head, his mind filled with contrasting scenarios. Part of him wants to follow through with an image that has popped up all of a sudden – _Remo telling him not too gently to get down on his knees, maybe even holding him at gunpoint again... undoing the fly of Remo's uniform trousers, sucking him off in the woods..._ – and that's normal stuff, nothing to think twice about, just a fantasy that will go away as soon as Sirius is done wanking. He's not worried about that at all. 

But another part of him just wants to lie back and think in great detail about what it would be like to put his arms around Remo and kiss him on the lips, and that _does_ worry him, a bit. Giacomo is right. He doesn't know Remo at all. He must not be stupid enough to let physical attraction cloud his judgement – especially because, realistically, even if there's no ulterior motive on Remo's part, “going out for ice cream” is probably code for a quick shag somewhere, and nothing more. 

Sirius sighs. 

“Well, a shag is a shag,” he tells himself, sensibly, and he turns his attention back to the blow-jobs in the wood scenario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all I know, the gay scene in Bellagio in the 70s was actually thriving, but frankly I have my doubts.


	3. Chapter 3

Ice cream, it turns out, really does mean 'ice cream'. Remo, despite Sirius' protests, insists on paying for both their cones, and afterwards they walk down to the promenade and find a nice bench to sit on.

“Che bella giornata,” says Remo, his eyes closed, basking in the sun, _what a glorious day_. Sirius can tell from his skintone that he tans easily in the summer – a notion that basically forces him to picture Remo in one of those teeny Speedo sort of swimsuits that Italian blokes, God bless them, seem to collectively favour. He adjusts himself slightly. 

“Ce l'hanno il sole così a casa tua, americano?” _do you have sunshine like this back home, American?_

Sirius snorts. 

“Americano?” _me, an American?_

Remo opens his eyes. They're very pretty in the strong sunlight, the irises almost amber-like. 

“No? Parli inglese, quindi pensavo...” _no? You speak English, so I assumed..._

“Sì, parlo inglese _perché sono inglese_ , pensa te,” says Sirius, amused, _yeah, I speak English because_ I am _English, go figure._

Remo laughs. 

“Va bene, scusa. Inglese di dove?” _all right, I'm sorry. And where exactly are you from?_

“Londra,” _London._

“E come ci sei finito qui a Bellagio?” _and how did you end up here in Bellagio?_

Sirius sighs, trying to decide how much of his story he wants to tell. 

“Io e Giacomo siamo amici di scuola,” he says, eventually, _Giacomo and I are friends from school._

Remo, tactfully, doesn't press the issue. 

“E tu di dove sei?” asks Sirius, after a brief pause, _and you? Where are you from?_

Remo smirks. 

“Vediamo se indovini,” he says, _let's see if you can guess._

Sirius laughs. 

“Non è giusto! Tu non distingui un inglese da un americano, e io dovrei indovinare la regione?” _this is not fair! You can't tell an Englishman from an American, and I'm supposed to guess which region you're from?_

“Okay, visto che ti arrendi – Milano,” _all right, since you're giving up – Milan._

“Milano! E cosa ne sa del lago e delle montagne uno di Milano?”, _Milan! What does someone from Milan know about the lake and the mountains?_

“Ne sa più di uno di Londra, a quanto pare,” says Remo, lifting an eyebrow, _enough to outsmart someone from London, apparently._

Sirius feels himself blush. 

“Senti, devo chiedertelo per forza,” _listen, I really have to ask you this._

“Sì?” _yes?_

“Non è che tutta questa cosa del gelato è un trucco per farmi parlare?” _this whole ice cream thing is not a ruse to get me to talk, right?_

Remo blinks. 

“Lo sai cosa rischio per non averti arrestato, vero?” he says, very quietly, _you do know what I was risking when I decided not to arrest you, right?_

“Sì, ma ho pensato che magari...” _yes, but I thought that perhaps..._

“Ascolta, lo sappiamo tutti e due perché ti ho lasciato andare,” _listen, we both know the reason why I let you go._

Sirius nods. 

“Diciamo che speravo che fosse una cosa reciproca,” says Remo, a bit sadly, _let's just say that I hoped it was mutual._

“It _is_ mutual,” says Sirius, firmly. “Scusa – certo che è una cosa reciproca.” 

Remo smiles slightly. 

“Davvero?” _are you serious?_

“Sì,” says Sirius, staring into his eyes, _yeah._

“Molto bene,” says Remo, with a big grin, and he goes back to sunning himself, _great._

** 

It's almost completely dark out by the time Remo walks Sirius back home, but Sirius knows his nosy neighbours too well to take any chances. 

“Vuoi entrare un momento?” he says, _do you want to come in for a second?_

Remo looks conflicted. 

“Devo tornare in caserma,” he says, _I really have to report back to my station._

Sirius grins. 

“Intendo 'un momento' sul serio. Giusto per salutarci come si deve,” _I mean it when I say 'a second'. Just to say goodbye properly._

Remo's eyes go wide. 

“Oh – certo, allora, volentieri,” _oh, alright, then, of course._

** 

Giacomo isn't home, thankfully. 

Sirius takes off his jacket and tosses it carelessly on the sofa. Remo stands by the door, stock-still. He looks even more nervous than Sirius feels, which is saying a lot. Sirius beckons him forwards. 

“Vieni pure,” he says, _you don't have to stand there_. 

Remo takes one single step forward. Sirius goes and stands in front of him. His heart is thumping in his chest. 

“Ho passato un pomeriggio fantastico,” he says, truthfully, _I had a fantastic time._

Remo nods. 

“Anch'io,” he says, his smile sending jolts of excitement down Sirius' spine, _me too._

Sirius takes a deep breath to steady himself. 

“Mi piacerebbe davvero baciarti,” he says, _I'd love to kiss you._

“Dovresti,” says Remo, _you should_ , and Sirius obliges. 

** 

“Look at you, all cheerful! Did your date go as planned, then?” 

“It was a very pleasant afternoon, yes, thank you.” 

“Oh, I bet it was.” says Giacomo, demonstrating a very rude gesture with his fingers. Sirius throws a pillow at his head. 

“Don't be crass, Prongs. It's not like that.” 

Giacomo joins Sirius on the sofa. 

“Wait, you _really_ like him,” he says, amazed. “Right?” 

“I do,” admits Sirius. “He's really nice. I'm seeing him again next week.” 

Giacomo sighs. 

“I still don't know if it's a good idea. How are we supposed to do our job properly if your _boyfriend_ is out there looking for us? You can't expect him to give you a pass time after time, no matter how much you get along. He will get in trouble, eventually.” 

“See, speaking of that...” 

Giacomo sits up straighter. 

“What?” 

“You know, I was thinking that maybe we have outgrown smuggling, in a sense.” 

Giacomo blinks. 

“I can't believe it. You spend a couple of hours snogging a guard, and now all of a sudden you're above smuggling. And how do you propose we make our money from here on, exactly?” 

Sirius shrugs. 

“I could find a job, I suppose.” 

“You wouldn't last a day.” 

“Like you would know.” 

“At least I have enough sense to know that there's no way I'm getting up early every morning.” 

“There are all sorts of jobs that don't require getting up early,” says Sirius, vaguely. 

Giacomo frowns. 

“I really don't like the idea that you would change your whole life just because some bloke comes along and snaps his fingers.” 

“That's _not_ what happened!” 

“Sure looks a lot like it, though.” 

Sirius glares at Giacomo. 

“Listen, Giacomo, at some point we will have to find a real job. Well, maybe not you, but I certainly will have to, eventually. I might as well do it now. And I don't think you need a reminder that _you_ made it by the skin of your teeth, the last time. Is it really worth it?” 

Giacomo shakes his head, incredulous. 

“Yeah, of course it's worth it. We've done it for years – it's brilliant fun, and a lot of money.” 

“Well, maybe it's no longer fun for me.” 

“No longer fun for you. I see.” 

Sirius sighs. 

“Fuck it, _of course_ it's still fun, it'll always be fun. I just – it was spooky watching you get arrested, you know. What would I even do if they sent you to jail? They know who you are, at this point, there will be no slap on the wrist the next time. I think we should quit while we're ahead, maybe.” 

Giacomo is silent for a bit, his front teeth working on the corner of his thumb nail. 

“All right,” he says, eventually. “But I'm not getting a real job!” 

Sirius grins. 

“Deal.” 

** 

“Ho pensato che potremmo fare un pic-nic, magari,” says Remo, _I thought that we could have a picnic, perhaps._

Sirius grins at the ceiling. 

“Un pic-nic,” he repeats, into the receiver, _a picnic._

“Sì, pare che sarà una giornata bellissima, sarebbe un peccato non approfittarne,” _yes, supposedly we're in for very nice weather, it would be a pity not to._

“Non credo di aver mai fatto un pic-nic in vita mia,” _I don't think I've ever had a proper picnic._

“Com'è possibile? Basta, allora è deciso, dobbiamo rimediare assolutamente. Ti passo a prendere a mezzogiorno?” _You can't be serious! That's it, it's settled, we absolutely have to put this right. Pick you up at noon?_

“Va bene. Vieni con la macchina della Finanza?” _Deal. Are you picking me up in a patrol car?_

“Ah-ah, che ridere,” says Remo, but Sirius can tell from his voice that he's grinning for real, _ha-ha, very funny._

“Non che farei storie,” _not that I would put up any resistance._

“Non dirmi che subisci il fascino della divisa,” _don't tell me you have a thing for uniforms._

“Be'...” _well..._

Remo sighs. 

“E io che pensavo di essere speciale,” _and here I was, thinking I was special._

“Ma io subisco solo il fascino della tua divisa,” _but my thing is for your uniform and your uniform only._

“Salvato in corner,” says Remo, _nice save._

A pause, but a comfortable one. 

“Non vedo l'ora di vederti,” says Remo eventually, _I'm really looking forward to seeing you._

“Anch'io,” _me too._

“Buonanotte, allora,” _goodnight, then._

“Buonanotte. Tanti baci,” _goodnight. Lots of kisses._

A small, soft moan at the other end of the line. 

“Non sai quanto vorrei baciarti adesso,” _you have no idea of how I wish I could kiss you now._

Sirius closes his eyes. 

“Cosa mi faresti se fossi lì?” _what would you do if I were there with you?_

“Ti porterei a letto,” _I would take you to my bed._

Sirius undoes his trousers. 

“E poi?” _and then?_

“Ti toglierei i vestiti,” _I would take off your clothes._

Sirius wraps his fingers around his cock. 

“E poi?” he asks again, in a slightly breathless voice, _and then?_

A second's hesitation. 

“... ti stai toccando?” _are you touching yourself?_

“Sì,” _yes._

A grunt of approval. 

“Bravissimo. Vediamo se riusciamo a farti venire... ” _there's a good lad. Let's see if we can make you come..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unmarried finanzieri under a certain age have to sleep at the station, sorry Sirius.


	4. Chapter 4

Remo is much shyer in person than he was on the phone, but that's OK, because so is Sirius. They greet each other with a quick half-hug. Remo is wearing a very nice shirt, his collar undone. To Sirius' surprise and delight, it turns out that he drives a bright red, brand-new Alfa Spider.

“Non sono mai stato con un altro ragazzo,” Remo says, apropos of nothing, on their drive to the picnic spot, _I have never been with another bloke._

Sirius makes a non-committal noise. Remo glances sideways at him. 

“Tu mi piaci tantissimo, davvero. Il problema è che ho paura di non sapere cosa sto facendo, e che tu non mi voglia più una volta che vedrai quanto sono incapace,” _I really like you, you know. It's just that I'm afraid that I won't know what I'm doing, and that you are going to ditch me once you see how useless I am._

“Ma figurati!” says Sirius, hotly, _no way!_

“E se faccio schifo?” says Remo, gripping the steering wheel so forcefully that his knuckles turn white, _and what if I'm really bad at it?_

“Al telefono eri bravissimo,” _you were brilliant on the phone._

“Quella è una cosa completamente differente,” _that's a whole different thing._

Sirius does his best to fake a smile. He has spotted a tiny golden cross hanging from the chain around Remo's neck, and a thought occurs to him suddenly: this is a very Catholic country, after all – maybe Remo's hesitation is down to a fear of eternal damnation. He speaks very gently. 

“Ascolta, se hai cambiato idea non c'è problema, non è che dobbiamo fare cose per forza,” _look, it's OK if you changed your mind, we don't have to do anything if you don't want to._

Remo shakes his head. 

“Ma io voglio eccome! È che non sono capace, e tu di sicuro sarai bravissimo,” _believe me, I desperately want to! It's just that I will have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm sure you'll be brilliant._

“Guarda che nemmeno io ho mai fatto granché,” _you know, it's not like I have much experience, either._

“Davvero?” says Remo, shocked, _you don't?_

“Ho baciato un paio di persone, ma niente di più,” lies Sirius, who also got a few blow-jobs back in the day, but can't remember the Italian word for it, _I've snogged a few people, but that's it._

“Io ho avuto una ragazza, per un po', ma non siamo andati fino in fondo,” says Remo, apparently heartened by the revelation, _I had a girlfriend for a while, but we didn't go all the way._

“Vedi? Siamo pari,” _see? We're even._

Remo smiles. The sight makes Sirius' heart flutter. 

“Sono contento,” says Remo, _I'm really happy about this._

** 

They kiss standing by Remo's parked car, to the soundtrack of a Rino Gaetano song on the radio. Sirius smiles against Remo's lips, amused by the contrast between their exploits on the phone and the sweet embrace they are sharing now. 

“Cosa c'è da ridere?” asks Remo, frowning slightly, _what's so funny?_

“Niente,” says Sirius, giving him another kiss, _nothing._

Remo sighs. 

“Non so cosa fare con le mani,” _I don't know what to do with my hands._

Sirius grabs them and guides them to the back pockets of his own jeans. 

“Mettile qui, per cominciare,” _put them here, for a start._

Remo swallows. 

“Ah, posso?” _I had no idea this was allowed._

Sirius snorts. 

“Lo sai che ero io al telefono l'altra sera, vero?” _you do know that it was me on the phone the other night, right?_

Remo laughs. 

“Touché,” he says, grabbing Sirius' arse, _you have a point._ “È che è molto più facile essere diretto quando non ti ho davanti. Sei così bello che mi intimidisci,” _it's just that it's much easier to be forward when I don't have you standing in front of me. You're so handsome, it's intimidating._

“Non faccio altro che pensare a te,” says Sirius, truthfully, _I keep thinking about you._

“E io a te,” says Remus, _and I you._

“Tutte quelle cose che mi hai detto al telefono...” _all those things you said to me on the phone..._

“Ero serio,” _I meant them._

Sirius feels a warmth on his cheeks that has little to do with the unseasonally strong sunshine. 

“Ti va di venire a casa mia, quando abbiamo finito qui?” _do you want to come back to my place, once we're done eating?_

Remo also blushes slightly. 

“Mi piacerebbe tantissimo,” he says, _I would love to._

** 

Lunch, to Sirius vague dismay, is little more than a few sandwiches. 

“Ti aspettavi un banchetto? Avresti dovuto invitare mia mamma, allora, figurati se io so cucinare,” says Remo, amused, _did you think you were going to get a feast? You should have asked my mom to come along, then, Lord knows I can't cook at all._

Sirius clutches at his chest in mock desperation. 

“Togliti la camicia, almeno, per compensare,” he says, _at least take your shirt off, as compensation._

Remo's smile falters. 

“Ecco, a proposito di quello – immagino che ti starai chiedendo cosa mi è capitato alla faccia,” he says, in what sounds to Sirius like a carefully rehearsed breezy tone, _speaking of that – I suppose you'll be wondering what happened to my face._

“Solo se ti va di dirmelo,” _only if you want to tell me about it._

Remo takes a deep breath. 

“Sono stato morso da un cane da bambino – è stata una cosa abbastanza tremenda, all'inizio i dottori pensavano che sarei morto. Ti devo avvisare, le cicatrici che ho sotto la camicia sono molto peggio di questa che ho in faccia. Ti faccio vedere, se vuoi,” he says, withouth looking at Sirius, _I got mauled by a dog when I was a small boy – it was rather gruesome, the doctors initially thought I wasn't going to make it. I have to warn you, the scars I have under my shirt are much worse than the one on my face. I can show you, if you want me to._

“Christ,” says Sirius, “che storia tremenda, mi dispiace,” _what a terrible thing, I'm so sorry._

Remo shrugs. 

“È successo un sacco di anni fa,” he says, coolly, _it happened a long time ago._

“Lo so, ma lo stesso...” says Sirius, tracing the scar on Remo's cheek with his fingertips, _I know, but all the same..._

“Be', comunque, questo è quanto, vedi se ti sta bene,” says Remo, shying away from Sirius' touch, and he takes off his shirt, _right, anyway, this is what you'd be dealing with. You tell me if it's OK with you._

It's pretty bad. Sirius doesn't say anything, because there isn't anything good to say and it is very clear to him that Remo doesn't want any sort of sympathy. Their gazes meet. 

“Ti fa schifo?” _does it repulse you?_

Sirius shakes his head. 

“Assolutamente no,” he says, looking straight into Remo's eyes, _not in the slightest._

Remo smiles. 

“Bene,” he says, buttoning his shirt back up, _good._

** 

Sirius is very glad that he passed what evidently was a test on Remo's part, because it means that a few hours later he gets to watch Remo take his shirt off again, and this time it _definitely_ isn't a test, and the shirt isn't the only item of clothing that ends up on the floor of Sirius' bedroom. 

“Togliti i jeans,” says Remo, with a very determined look in his pretty eyes, _take off your jeans._

Sirius does. 

“E la maglietta,” adds Remo, and at this point they're both standing in just their underwear, _and your t-shirt._

Sirius grins. 

“Tu mi hai già visto in questo stato, ovviamente,” _you've already seen me in this state of undress, of course._

Remo nods, his gaze hungry upon Sirius' barely clothed form. 

“Senti, come si dice 'cazzo' in inglese?”, he asks, politely, _listen, how do you say 'cock' in English?_

Sirius chokes on his own saliva. 

“Christ, avvisa, prima di dire queste cose!” he sputters, excitement pumping through his veins, _give a man a warning, before you say something like this!_

Remo's face splits into a rather wicked grin. 

“Scusami,” he says, in a tone that suggests that he's not sorry at all, “è solo che voglio sapere come lo chiami nella tua testa mentre te lo succhio,” _it's just that I want to know what you're calling it in your head when I suck on it._

** 

“Posso avere una sigaretta?” says Remo afterwards, _can I have a smoke?_

“Certo,” says Sirius, reaching for the pack on his nighstand, _of course._

Remo takes a look at the pack – it's a Swiss brand, naturally – and he sighs in mock indignation. 

Sirius blushes. 

“Ascolta, ho deciso di smettere,” he says, lighting Remo's cigarette for him, _look, I decided that I'm going to stop doing it._

“Come no,” says Remo, amused, _like hell you are._

“No, dico sul serio,” _no, I am serious._

“Guarda che non c'è bisogno di raccontarmi storie, mi sembra chiaro che non sono più nella posizione di farmi degli scrupoli,” _I promise there's no need to lie to me, it's pretty obvious that I no longer have any sort of moral pedestal to stand on._

“Non sono storie. Vorrei che le cose fra noi fossero più serie, e non posso chiederti di farlo se io continuo... a fare le cose che faccio,” concludes Sirius, somewhat lamely, _I swear I'm not lying. I would love to get more serious with you, and I can't ask you to do it if I keep... if I keep on doing the things I'm doing._

Remo smokes his cigarette and stares at Sirius for a bit, without speaking. 

“Sei una persona molto strana, lo sai?” he says, eventually, _you're a very unusual person, do you know that?_

Sirius looks away. 

“Fai come se non avessi detto niente,” he mumbles, _let's pretend I never said anything._

“No, aspetta, non dicevo in quel senso,” says Remo, covering Sirius' hand with his own, _no, wait, I did not mean it like that._

“Sembrava una maniera educata di mandarmi affanculo,” _it sounded a lot like a polite way to tell me to fuck off._

“Ma figurati,” says Remo, putting his cigarette off, _hardly._ “Ma ammetterai che non è facile convicersi che un pomeriggio a letto con me sia abbastanza per convincere un contrabbandiere a smettere di punto in bianco. Sono così bravo?” he asks, grinning, _but you have to admit that it's not easy to persuade oneself that an afternoon in bed with me is enough to make a smuggler give up smuggling all of sudden. Am I that good at it?_

Sirius laughs. 

“Yeah, sì, lo sei, in effetti,” _yeah, honestly, you actually are._

“Buono a sapersi,” says Remo, pleased, _good to know._

“A dirla tutta, però, avevo già deciso di smettere dopo che ci siamo visti la prima volta – prima delle cose che abbiamo fatto al telefono, addirittura,” _if I have to tell you the truth, though, I had already decided that I was going to quit after we got together for the first time – before we had our little chat on the phone, even._

“Davvero?”, _really?_

Sirius nods solemnly. 

“Davvero,” he says, _really._

Remo stares at him with an unreadable look on his handsome face. 

“Vieni qui, dammi un bacio,” he says, in a voice that makes Sirius' heart melt, _c'mere, give me a kiss._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus drives a fancy little car.
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> The [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89hKU3Ebi14) that is playing on the radio while they kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

They end up having to borrow Giacomo's parents' car, which annoys Giacomo greatly.

“Why can't we take your bike as usual?” 

“Because there's three of us, this time around.” 

“Well, we can take your bike and _he_ can take that ridiculous little car of his, then.” 

Sirius rolls his eyes. 

“His car is brilliant and you know it – you're just being an arse.” 

“I don't see why I have to come along, that's all.” 

“Because I'm your friend and I'm asking you to, and also because it's a birthday party, not a forced march through the desert. C'mon, be nice.” 

“All right,” grumbles Giacomo, “but we're not staying the night.” 

** 

“Ah, quindi non stiamo andando a Milano-Milano? Okay,” says Giacomo, in a completely unnecessary confrontational tone, _oh, so we're not going to Milan proper? OK._

“Cut it off, Prongs,” hisses Sirius, annoyed. 

Remo doesn't bat an eye. 

“No, è una villa in campagna – era dei miei nonni, adesso ci abita mia cugina,” he explains, pleasantly, from the backseat, _no, it's a country villa – it used to belong to my grandparents, and now my cousin lives there._

“Bene,” says Giacomo, _I see._

“La prossima uscita è la nostra,” says Remo, giving a surreptitious squeeze to Sirius' tense shoulder, _take the next exit._

** 

The place is so lovely that not even Giacomo manages to find anything snarky to say about it. 

“Okay, cosa volete da bere?” says Remo, _OK, what do you want to drink?_

“Una birra, grazie,” says Sirius, _a beer, thank you._

“Non preoccuparti, non ho sete,” says Giacomo, _don't worry, I'm not thirsty._

Sirius glares at him. Remo smiles politely. 

“Okay, al limite mi dici poi. Datemi pure le giacche,” he says, holding his arm out, _OK, if you change your mind, just tell me. Give me your coats._

“Keep this up,” says Sirius, as they watch Remo weave his way through the crowd, “and I swear I will punch you in the fucking face, Prongs.” 

Giacomo has the decency to blush. 

“All right. I'm sorry. I'm not doing it on purpose.” 

Sirius sighs. 

“I just want you to be civil to him. You know I love you, but you're being really rude to him, and he hasn't done anything to you, and I really don't understand what your problem is.” 

A pause. 

“I don't want him to steal you away,” admits Giacomo, eventually. 

“ _What_?” 

“You heard me.” 

Sirius makes a face. 

“Prongs, you're a brother to me. You know I don't say this lightly. You're all the family I have, and nothing and no one will ever come between us, no matter what might happen.” 

“But you really like him. I know you do.” 

“That's true, but it doesn't change anything between us.” 

“Okay. Again, I'm sorry. I know I'm being a pain in the arse.” 

Sirius grins. 

“You are, but I'm stuck with you, so...” 

Giacomo makes a weird choking noise. 

“Oh man, Pads, I think I'm in love,” he says, grabbing Sirius' forearm. 

“Huh?” 

“Look at that girl over there, the redhead – just fucking _look_ at her.” 

Sirius does. As purely theoretical as his opinion on female beauty is, he has no problem understanding Giacomo's sudden ardour – the young woman they're looking at is simply stunning. He smirks. 

“Well, go chat her up. With a bit of luck you'll hit it off, and then you can stop being all jealous and weird about me.” 

Giacomo laughs. 

“Vi state divertendo?” asks Remo, handing Sirius a cold beer, _are you two having fun?_

“Giacomo si è innamorato,” announces Sirius, _Giacomo is in love._

Remo grins. 

“Ooh, di chi?” _ooh, with whom?_

“La ragazza coi capelli rossi là in fondo,” says Giacomo, in a tone of comradery that warms Sirius' heart, _the redhead over there._

Remo snorts. 

“Vuoi che te la presenti? È mia cugina,” _do you want me to introduce you? She's my cousin._

“Stai scherzando?” _are you kidding me?_

“No, non sto scherzando. Si chiama Liliana. Vieni, andiamo a parlarci,” says Remo, beckoning an astonished Giacomo forward, _no, I'm serious. Her name is Liliana. Let's go talk to her._

** 

“Mi sa che a mia cugina il tuo amico piace proprio,” says Remo, locking the bedroom door behind them, _I think my cousin really fancies your friend._

“Giuro che normalmente non è stronzo come sembrava oggi,” says Sirius, _I swear normally he's not even remotely as much of an arse as he was today._

Remo grins. 

“Lo immaginavo, visto che è il tuo migliore amico. E poi, devo dire, è abbastanza figo. Non mi sento di darle torto,” _I figured as much, given that he's your best friend. Also, I have to admit, he's honestly pretty good-looking. I can't say that I blame her._

“Ehi! Guarda che mi ingelosisco,” _hey! Watch out, I'm going to get jealous._

“Non ce n'è motivo, visto che tu sei il ragazzo più bello del mondo” says Remo, pulling Sirius closer, _no need to, seeing as you're the most handsome bloke in the world._

“Flattery will get you anywhere,” says Sirius, wrapping his arms around Remo. 

“Huh?” 

“Niente, dicevo che con i complimenti puoi arrivare dovunque,” translates Sirius, kissing Remo on the neck. 

“Lo terrò presente,” says Remo, moaning softly, _I'll keep that in mind._

** 

“Dio quanto vorrei scoparti,” says Remo, nearly breathless with excitement, grinding on top of Sirius, _god, I'd give anything to fuck you._

“Fallo,” replies Sirius, to his own surprise, _do it._

Remus stops moving. 

“Sei sicuro?” he says, in a measured tone, watching Sirius' face keenly, _are you sure?_

“Yeah.” 

Remo closes his eyes for a second, apparently overwhelmed by the information. 

“Giusto per essere chiari – stai dicendo che lasceresti che te lo metta nel culo?” _just so we're clear – are you saying that you would let me stick it up your arse?_

Hearing Remo detail the proposition so explicitly sends a frisson of excitement down Sirius' spine. 

“Certo,” he says, his hand on Remo's backside, _of course._

“Dio,” says Remo, sticking his tongue inside Sirius' mouth, _god._

“Credo che ci sia bisogno di usare qualcosa per rendere le cose, come dire, slippery,” pants Sirius, the Italian word evading him completely, _I think we'll need to use something to make things, how do you say it, slippery._

“Slippery,” repeats Remo, tentatively, his erection rubbing against Sirius' through their underwear. “Per farlo scivolare dentro più facilmente, intendi?” _to make it easier for me to slip it in?_

“Yes!” growls Sirius. “Sì! Per favore, per favore, sbrigati,” _please, I'm begging you, let's do this._

Remo stares at him with eyes that have gone very dark. 

“Secondo te l'olio potrebbe funzionare?” _do you think oil would work?_

“L'olio d'oliva?” _olive oil?_

“Sì – quello in cucina c'è di sicuro, no?” _yeah – surely we can find some in the kitchen, right?_

“Sai cosa ti dico, proviamo. L'olio mi sembra un'ottima idea,” _you know what, let's just try. The oil idea sounds perfect to me._

** 

It hurts like a motherfucker, olive oil notwithstanding. 

They try a finger first, which takes a while to get used to, but then rapidly turns very plesurable – especially once Remo starts simultaneously sucking on Sirius' cock. But then the sucking stops, the finger is withdrawn, and Sirius feels the blunt pressure of the tip of Remo's cock against his oiled arsehole. It fills him with an emotion that is equal parts excitement and dread. 

“Non credo che questa sia la posizione migliore, in realtà,” says Remo, frowning slightly, _I really don't think this is the best position for what we're trying to do._

“Vuoi che mi metta a quattro zampe?” _do you want me to get on all fours?_

Remo nods. 

“Sì, credo che sia la cosa più furba,” he says, his cock hanging heavily between his legs, _yeah, I think that might be the best solution._

Sirius gets on his hands and knees, and his efforts are repayed with the return of Remo's slicked finger, now bolder than ever, repeatedly brushing against a spot inside Sirius that makes him see stars. 

“Ah, ma quindi ti piace,” says Remo, sounding extremely pleased with himself, _I see that you are enjoying yourself._

“Just give it to me already,” says Sirius, half-delirious with lust, “dammelo, per favore.” 

A sharp intake of breath on Remo's part. 

“Subito,” he says, _here I come_ , and he once more replaces his finger with the tip of this erection, and then he pushes in. 

Their new position is evidently far more suited to the purpose than the previous one was, because this time Remo is able to shove his entire cock up Sirius' arse on the first try. Sirius cries out, both in surprise and in discomfort. 

“Christ!” 

“Dio, dio, dio,” moans Remo, in complete and utter stupor, his breath hot against the back of Sirius' neck, _god, god, god._

Sirius takes a deep breath. He considers asking Remo to pull out – he feels like he's being split in two – but then he thinks about the spot that Remo's finger had found so easily just a few minutes before, and he decides that he wants to give it a try. 

“Stai fermo ancora un secondo,” he says, through gritted teeth, _please don't start moving just yet._

“Uh?” says Remo, his tone alarmed. “Ti sto facendo male?” _am I hurting you?_

“No, dammi solo un secondo per abituarmi,” says Sirius, experimentally wrapping his fingers around his own erection, _no, just give me a second to get used to it._

“La prossima volta ci scambiamo di posto,” promises Remus, peppering Sirius' neck with kisses, _next time, we're switching roles._ “E' una cosa troppo meravigliosa per tenerla tutta per me,” _it's just too fucking brilliant a thing to keep it all to myself._

Sirius pictures himself thrusting into Remo. The though makes him moan. Remo gets so excited by the sound that he bucks his hips slightly, and Sirius, who was bracing himself for agony, is surprised to discover that the sensation is actually almost overwhelmingly pleasant. 

“Okay, vai pure,” he says, starting to stroke his own cock in earnest, _go ahead and thrust._

** 

They lie next to each other, both completely spent, they fingertips barely touching. Sirius' arse feels rather sore, but he's so overjoyed by the whole thing that he doesn't really care. 

“Cosa ne dici, è mezzanotte?” he says, turning his head to look at Remo's profile, _what do you think, is it midnight already?_

“Credo di sì,” says Remo, squinting at his watch, _I think so._

“Buon compleanno, allora. Il tuo regalo l'hai già avuto,” says Sirius, with a chuckle, _happy birthday, then. I already gave you your present._

“Miglior regalo che io abbia mai avuto,” declares Remo, squeezing Sirius' hand, _best gift I've ever received._

“Remo?” 

“Sì?” _yes?_

“I think I'm in love with you.” 

“Cosa?” _what?_

“Te lo spiego un'altra volta,” says Sirius, grinning at the ceiling, _I'll explain some other time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah this was such a blast to write. Thank you for sticking with me all through this, you are the best audience a person could possibly ask for <3 <3 <3


	6. Epilogue

“Svegliati, amore”, _wake up, love_

Sirius yawns, his eyes still resolutely shut. 

“C'mere,” he says, reaching blindly for Remo, “come back to bed for a second.” 

“No time, we're already cutting it close as it is.” 

“The kid is lucky we really like him,” grumbles Sirius. “Who defends their thesis _on a Monday morning_?” 

Remo snorts. 

“I don't know, people who get told that they have to? I don't think it's up to the candidates.” 

“Well, still – very inconsiderate of them, if you're asking me.” 

“I'm not, dear. C'mon, get up, ho fatto il caffè, _I've made coffee_.” 

** 

The kid – Sirius doubts that they will ever manage to stop calling him that, even now that he's in his twenties and has a beard – looks very smart in his suit and tie. Liliana, standing on her toes, her arm outstretched, is unsuccesfully attempting a bit of last-minute hair smoothing. 

“Mamma, per cortesia, smettila,” he says, adjusting his glasses, _Mum, please, will you stop?_

“Hai i capelli di tuo padre,” she laments, with a sigh, _you have your father's hair._

“E dovresti andarne orgoglioso,” says Giacomo, with a grin, _and you should be proud._

“Most of all, you should be happy that you don't have your father's brains,” says Sirius. 

The kid turns around. 

“Sirius! Remo!” he says, overjoyed. “I'm so glad that you made it!” 

“Of course we did, kid,” says Sirius, hugging him. “We wouldn't have missed it for the world.” 

** 

“You know what?” says Remo, many hours later, back in their house. “I'm really grateful for your criminal past.” 

Sirius laughs. 

“Why, because it makes me dangerous and sexy?” 

“No, because if you hadn't been suck a mediocre smuggler I would never have met you, and Giacomo would never have met Liliana, and we wouldn't have a godson to spoil.” 

Sirius grins. 

“I wasn't a mediocre smuggler – if we must, I can concede that you were a particularly effective border guard. Easy to corrupt, though. It's probably for the best that you quit, from a national security point of view.” 

Remo laughs. 

“Possibly the second best decision I took in the 80s, right after shaving my moustache.” 

“I liked your moustache! It was absolutely ridiculous, it suited you.” 

“Vieni qui, scemo,” says Remo, pulling Sirius closer, _c'mere, you twit._

“Remo?” 

“Yes?” 

“Ti amo tanto, lo sai?” _I really love you, do you know that?_

“I do,” says Remo, kissing him, “and I love you too, amore.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE EPILOGUE (Sarah bullied me into writing it <3)


End file.
